


the chemical, physical kryptonite

by scagnetism



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Barista Zayn, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Photographer Harry, University Student Louis, just fluff, literally no angst, louis pretends to hate harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-16
Updated: 2015-01-16
Packaged: 2018-03-07 21:00:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3183005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scagnetism/pseuds/scagnetism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU in which Harry is a photographer, Louis is a uni student, and they meet at a coffee shop.  Louis isn't enamored with Harry, not at all, not even one bit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the chemical, physical kryptonite

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I haven't been able to write anything over 3k in the longest time, so when I got this idea, it was basically a challenge to myself. I couldn't have done this without my best friend Katelyn who gave me her input and ideas, and she really helped this to come together!
> 
> Everyone needs a shameless coffee shop AU, right? So, here you go.
> 
> Title from Shut Up and Dance by Walk the Moon.

When Louis stops into his favorite coffee shop as a part of his usual morning routine, he notices something _un_ usual.

At the table he usually occupies, the table that might as well read “Louis Tomlinson sits here every day, so this table is off limits to anyone who is not Louis Tomlinson, thank you very much,” there’s a curly haired boy with his face buried in the newspaper.  Louis wrinkles his nose at this because if he doesn’t sit at this table, his entire day is going to be thrown off. He’s been in this routine for the past three months, and he doesn’t plan to let a stranger ruin it.

Today he doesn’t even have morning classes – only two midafternoon – but he still made the effort to get up and get breakfast.  Whoever this is can’t ruin his sudden surge of productivity.

He shrugs it off as he walks to the counter, deciding to deal with it once he’s placed his order.  “Morning, Lou,” Zayn tells him, just flicking his eyes over his shoulder as he starts Louis’ usual.  “How’re you today?”

“Fine, but do you see the guy sitting at my table?”  Zayn blinks.  He’s not getting it.  “ _My_ table, Zayn.”

Zayn turns away from the machine that’s brewing Louis’ tea to inspect the situation.  “Huh.  Yeah, he is.”

“Right, so now my whole morning is thrown off.”

“Don’t be a drama queen,” Zayn tells him, heading toward the case filled with pastries to get Louis’ usual chocolate chip scone.  “Just sit at a different table.  Problem solved, yeah?”

Louis scowls a bit but doesn’t say anything.  Maybe he’s being a bit silly, but Zayn’s sister is the owner of this café and therefore Zayn should definitely have the power to make him move.  Forget “good customer service,” this is about “good Louis service” and that is clearly what’s most important.  “If my entire day is ruined because of this, I blame you.”

“Go right ahead.”  Zayn shrugs, unbothered, and Louis watches as a look of panic settles onto Zayn’s sharp features once he reaches into the display case.  “Shit, Lou, we’re all out of chocolate chip scones.  I can get you a blueberry one, though.”

“First there’s a dumb curly bloke sitting at my table – ”  He ignores the way Curly’s eyes seem to look away from the newspaper and find their way over to him, “and now you’re out of my scone?  Don’t tell me – is the kettle broken?  Is everyone out to get me?”

“You can still have your Yorkshire,” Zayn assures, pouring it into a mug and pressing it into Louis’ hands.  “On the house today, okay?  But calm down.  It’s a fucking table and a scone.  The world hasn’t ended.”

Louis shoots Zayn a menacing glare and starts to find another table.

“Excuse me,” a deep voice rumbles, and when Louis turns, he finds it belongs to Curly.  Now that his face isn’t hidden by the newspaper, he can see that his eyes are spectacularly green, much like the chair that Louis usually sits in but isn’t today because this _idiot_ stole it.  Maybe he picked Louis’ table because the chair matched his eyes.  Whatever.  “Um, I heard you were a little upset about me taking your spot.  So, um, you can have it.  And I was the one that bought the scone, but I didn’t finish it, so you can have what’s left of it.  Um.  If you want.”

He starts to get up, and Louis suddenly feels like a spectacular twat.  “You can stay,” he insists, motioning toward the table.  “There are two chairs here after all.”

Curly nods tentatively before a smile washes over his entire face.  And fuck, he’s got dimples, and fuck, Louis hates him a lot.  “Sorry I threw your day off,” he says, and the thing is – he actually looks _guilty._ Louis briefly wonders who feels this way for a person they don’t even know, but he just shrugs and smiles a little.

“’S fine,” Louis replies, hoping he sounds convincing as he breaks off a piece of the scone sitting between them and pops it in his mouth.  “’M Louis.”

“Harry.”

“Never seen you around before, Harry,” Louis says, leaning back in his chair.

“Oh, um, just moved here, actually.”  Harry speaks so slowly and Louis can’t help but find it endearing, even if he doesn’t want to because this guy sat at _his_ table and now needs to remain his mortal enemy.

“For uni?”

Harry shakes his head, long curls bouncing against his shoulders.  Louis wants to touch one.  He doesn’t because he doesn’t like Harry.  “No, I’m trying to start my own photography business?”  He says it more like a question than a statement, and Louis nods.  “And there was more work here than home.  So.”  He punctuates it with a shrug.

“Well, good luck to you then, Harold.”

He smiles, into his hand this time, but he can’t cover the warmth radiating from his face.  Louis will not smile back.  Even if it’s tempting.  “Thanks.  Um, I’ve gotta go, actually, but enjoy the rest of your scone.  Hope your whole day hasn’t been thrown off because of me.”  Harry stands up and folds the newspaper, shoving it into the back pocket of his ridiculously tight jeans.  “Maybe I’ll see you ‘round, yeah?”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“Great!”  He gives Louis a wave before he leaves, and Louis buries his face in his hands.

It only takes a second for Zayn’s laughter to ring out from over the counter.

“Don’t even say it, Z, I am warning you,” Louis starts, but he knows it doesn’t come out as angrily as he wants it to.  He just sounds defeated.

“You are so fucked,” Zayn laughs, heading into the back room before Louis can retaliate.

And yeah, he mostly is.

*

By the time Louis gets back to the flat he shares with Niall, he’s had more than enough time to mull over the situation, and he decides that he really, thoroughly doesn’t like Harry No Last Name because not only did Harry No Last Name take his usual table at the coffee shop, but Harry No Last Name was also very sweet and kind of him and tried to make sure Louis was still able to go about his morning routine.  Also, he has dimples and is probably – objectively, of course – the most beautiful person Louis has ever seen, so that’s just another reason to hate him.

Niall walks into the living room as soon as Louis slams the door, and no, he is not a drama queen no matter what Zayn says.  “Oi, what crawled up your ass and died this morning?” Niall asks, running his fingers through his hair while letting out a loud yawn.  “Oh, wait, I know that look, Tommo.  You’re pretending you didn’t meet a guy you want to bang.”

Louis fish mouths before words find their way back to him.  “Not true.”

“Then tell me exactly what happened,” Niall replies nonchalantly, heading toward the cabinets and pulling out a box of cereal.  He doesn’t bother to look at the expiration date before sticking his hand inside and chomping down a mouthful.

“I went to the café this morning like usual, and there was this bloody twat sitting at my normal table and – ”

“And let me guess,” Niall interrupts with a knowing grin that Louis wants to slap off his face, “this ‘bloody twat’” – his use of finger quotes deserves a punch straight in the face – “was probably the most gorgeous guy you’d ever seen, and if he hadn’t been sitting at your stupid table, which, public property can’t be assigned to you, Louis, just a reminder, you probably would’ve tried to flirt with him and get his number.  Am I right?”

Silence falls over the room until Louis takes off his coat and promptly throws it at Niall.

“No, you’re not right, wanker.  You’re not right because I _hate_ the guy I met today.”

Niall snorts and Louis ignores him, making his way into his bedroom with a loud groan.  “You don’t hate him,” Niall singsongs through Louis’ door.

“Fine,” Louis answers loudly as he flops onto his bed, spread out like a starfish, “I hate _you_ for being a gigantic dick.”

*

Louis somehow manages to forget his irritation at the coffee shop as he goes about the rest of his day.

But when he lies down in bed that night, the only thing he can think of are sparkling green eyes.

*

The next day, Louis is running horribly late as he bursts into the café.  He notices Harry sitting at his table, and he can feel his blood begin to boil, but there’s nothing he can do about it because if he doesn’t get his order _right now_ he’s going to be late to his morning class.

“Louis!” Harry says happily, putting his newspaper down on the table, and god, there are those gorgeous green eyes again.  That he loathes.

Louis gives Harry a sharp wave before tapping his fingers on the counter trying to get Zayn’s attention.  He ignores the way Harry’s features wilt.  “Hurry up, Z, gonna be late!  Chop, chop.”

“Chop, chop?” Zayn asks, standing up from where he was rummaging through the bottom cabinets looking for more cups.  “Come off it.”

“Gonna be late,” Louis reiterates, tapping against his imaginary watch.  He’s already pulled out the money, and when Zayn quickly hands him his Yorkshire in a to go cup and scone in a bag, Louis throws a tenner on the counter and lets his lips quirk into a smile.  “Keep the change.”

“What an act of charity,” Zayn deadpans with an eye roll, putting the money into the register.

As he starts to walk by where Harry is seated, he sees Harry open his mouth to speak, but Louis cuts him off with a quick brush over his arm.  “Sorry, love,” he says with as much of a smile he can manage.  “I’ve got to be going.  My first class starts in a few and this professor’s a right bastard, yeah?  Can’t be late.  See you tomorrow, maybe?”

Harry nods, brows furrowing.  “Tomorrow,” he replies slowly, “sure.”

“Wicked,” Louis answers as he heads out the door.

And it only takes a second for him to stop in his tracks right on the sidewalk.  He just tentatively made plans to see Harry, and he _hates_ Harry with his beautiful curls and sweet dimples and warm smile.

He promises himself not to tell Niall about this.

*

Curled up in his favorite hoodie and warmest sweatpants, Louis saunters into the coffee shop the following day much less frazzled.  He’s decided he can’t be fucked going to his morning classes because he deserves a day to himself – a Louis day.  And those are the best, really.

He lazily walks up to the counter and yawns, “Hey, Zayn.”

That’s not Zayn behind the counter.  Where is Zayn?  Why is Harry standing behind the counter?  No.  No.  Harry isn’t supposed to be behind the counter.  He’s supposed to be sitting at _Louis’_ table so Louis can get mad at him and his charming personality.  Not behind the counter.  Louis can’t be mad at him while he’s making his tea, can he?  Louis likes virtually anyone that makes him tea.

“Louis!  Hello!”

Harry’s hair is tied into a perfect bun with one of those stupid drink stoppers through it.  Louis can be angry about that.

“Zayn isn’t too pleased when customers get behind the counter,” Louis scolds, shoving his hands into his hoodie pocket.  He knows this from personal experience.  He tried it once when the service wasn’t fast enough because he figured he had some sort of right as Zayn’s best friend.  Apparently not.  “You might wanna go back to your table.  _My_ table.  Whatever.”

Harry laughs, bright and loud, and Louis can be angry about that, too.  “I work here!” he answers cheerily, and Louis notices that he’s already started toward the display case and his eyes seem to be scanning for the scones.  “Zayn offered me a job!  It was so nice of him, especially since I need some money for my photography business.”  He puts the scone down on a plate, and Louis is still too shocked to say anything.

Mostly because he knows Zayn hired Harry only because he wants to take the piss out of him.

“Oh, are you running late today?” Harry asks, chewing on his lip slightly.  “I can put this in a bag to go if you need me to.”

“No, uh, I’ll be eating in today,” Louis replies with a nod.

“And I’m really sorry – I know you and Zayn have it down to a science, but I don’t know how you take your tea.  You have Yorkshire, right?”  He nods.  “Brilliant!  I’m so glad I remembered that!”

And what kind of person is Harry No Last Name, honestly?  Who tries to remember details like that about people they don’t even know and who puts drink stoppers into their ludicrously long hair as an accessory?  Louis hates how endearing he is.

“Any milk or sugar?”

“Nah, black is fine.”

Harry grins and his stupid dimple pops out, and it’s so deep that Louis wants to set up camp there.  But he can’t because he _hates_ Harry.  “You’re sweet enough.”

And…is Harry flirting with him?  Because Louis hates that.  Stupidly pretty boys shouldn’t take over his table and take over his coffee shop and take over his _brain_.  Louis realizes that he’s being stupid, too, because pretty boys like Harry only happen once in a lifetime, he’s sure.  And most of the time, these once in a lifetime people don’t seek out someone ordinary like Louis to pay attention to, so logically he knows he should be basking in the attention, but _no._ He’s stronger than that.

“Quirky, aren’t you?” Louis mocks, and Harry’s cheeks flush a light pink as he pours the tea into a mug.  “Normally, I’d tack your last name onto the end of a statement like that.  But I don’t know yours, so.”  He internally winces.  What the fuck was that.

“Styles,” Harry giggles, sliding the mug to Louis. 

There’s a beat of silence.  “Aren’t you going to ask me my last name?” Louis asks, pulling a few pounds out of his pocket.

“It’s Tomlinson,” Harry tells him nonchalantly, taking the money from Louis’ hand.  He ignores the way he feels sparks linger on his skin from where their fingers brushed.  His brows furrow and he’s about to ask _how_ until Harry supplies, “Zayn told me.”

He has to kill Zayn.

“Right.  Well.  Thanks, Harry Styles.”

“You’re welcome, Louis Tomlinson.”

Louis goes to sit at his usual table.  It’s the closest to the counter, and he’s always sat there so he can bother Zayn, but today, he doesn’t have that luxury.  There’s no point in bothering Harry because he _hates_ him and his pretty little bun with wisps of curls sticking out here and there.  He wants to twirl his fingers around a strand.

“Is it always this dead?” Harry asks carefully once Louis has taken a bite of his scone, pulling him out of his thoughts.  He walks in front of the counter and leans against it.  He motions around the rest of the café where, aside from Louis, only three other people are sprinkled.

Louis shakes his head.  “Not always.  Just depends on the day, really.  Thought you’d rather it be dead, Styles, so you can have more time to think about your photography projects.”

Harry shrugs and crosses his arms across his chest.  And god, his shoulders are so broad and that’s annoying.  Louis wants to rest his head on one.  “Actually, Zayn, um, mentioned something to me about a print ad?”

“Are you asking me or telling me?” Louis smirks, and Harry shakes his head with an embarrassed sounding laugh.

“No, he did,” he clarifies, smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.  “And I said I’d do it.  It’s good exposure, y’know?  His sister said she wanted to try to bring in new customers, and she thinks a print ad would definitely help.”

Louis hums, taking a sip of his tea.  “Yeah, yeah, it’s a great idea,” Louis agrees.  “I had you pegged for the hipster type that has an Instagram full of photos of your Starbucks orders, anyway.  You’ll be perfect for the job.”

Harry laughs loudly, causing the few other people to look over at him, and he quickly clamps his hand over his mouth.  “They’re not _all_ of my drink orders, I’ll have you know,” he replies, and there’s a sparkle of laughter in his voice.  Louis hates how cute that is.  “But, um, Zayn is giving me creative freedom.  I showed him some of my work, and he said he trusts me to come up with something good, so that’s pretty cool.”  He shrugs awkwardly, and Louis lies to himself while he pretends he isn’t endeared.

“Zayn wouldn’t even trust _me_ that much and I’m his best friend, so consider yourself lucky.  Any ideas yet, young Harold?”

“Um, yeah, actually.  This place is so homey and nice, which is what drew me to it when I was walking around town the first day I saw you here.  It’s a place you want to curl up and have a cuppa, yeah?  So, I want to make sure that whatever I photograph can show off that atmosphere.  Like, warm colors and soft lights and that kind of stuff.”

Louis nods and yeah, he guesses it is all those things.  He’s never really noticed; it’s always been second nature to come here because of Zayn.  “Sounds like a great idea,” Louis finds himself saying, and he hates his stupid brain for complimenting the guy he hates.  “I know Zayn will love it.”

Harry grins, shyly looking at the floor like he’s not totally sure how to accept praise.  Louis wants to kiss his dimples.  Then slap him, of course, for being annoying.  Or something.  “And Starbucks is so commercial, and this place isn’t, so I was thinking maybe I could take pictures of actual customers.”

“Nice touch.”

“So, I was thinking maybe I could shoot you?”

Louis blinks and furrows his brows.  “You want to shoot me?”

Harry’s eyes widen comically as he realizes what he’s just said, and he quickly waves his hands back and forth as to dispel the thought.  “Oh, god, no, no, no, Louis, not like that.  I’m not, like.  A serial killer.  I meant, like, take pictures of you.  _Photo_ shoot.  Not _shoot_ shoot.”

“Ah.”  Louis clicks his tongue with a wry smile.  “Not saying that I don’t think I’m beautiful and worthy of being in an ad in every newspaper in the world, but what makes you want me?”

Harry looks at the ceiling as if it’s the most interesting thing he’s ever seen as he makes his way back around the counter, almost like it’s protection from Louis’ potential rejection.  Louis doesn’t think he could say no to this Bambi-esque boy even if he really, really did absolutely despise him, and okay, maybe Harry isn’t _that_ bad.  “You could be a model,” Harry tells him quietly, and Louis snorts.  “No, I really mean that.  Your cheekbones could cut glass, and your smile lights up a room.  If people thought they could meet gorgeous guys like you here, of course they’d check the place out.”

Louis does not blush at that.  He does _not_.  And if he does, Harry’s the only one to witness it which is the exact opposite of what he wanted.  And when Harry gives him a once over, he most definitely doesn’t feel butterflies start to flutter in his stomach.  No.  He’s not having these feelings.  Harry is flirting with him, but he is not having these feelings.

Before he can say anything, Harry leans forward on the counter to add, “Definitely model material.  Maybe a little short, but totally model material.”

“You could’ve stopped at ‘definitely model material’ and ‘cheekbones that could cut glass,’” Louis tells him, and if he didn’t hate Harry before, he does now because he is _not_ short.

Harry laughs and shakes his head, bun flouncing as he does, and that’s most definitely not something Louis thinks is adorable.  “’S cute, though.”

“I’m not cute,” Louis argues, flipping his fringe out of his eyes.  “I’m chiseled and manly.”

“Handsome and rugged,” Harry supplies, and Louis has to hide his smile behind his mug.

*

“Hey, Lou,” Niall greets Louis when he walks into their flat, looking up from his laptop.  He’s surrounded by papers, and his glasses are resting on the tip of his nose before he quickly pushes them up.  Before Louis can even ask, Niall says, “Forgot I had a paper due.  Whoops.”

Louis smiles as he hangs up his coat, sitting down at the kitchen table and turning to face his friend.  “Did Liam remind you?  You didn’t remember on your own, did you?”

“When have I ever remembered a due date on my own?  But enough about me!  You’re back later than usual today.”  Niall waggles his eyebrows like he knows something Louis doesn’t, and he doesn’t like this one bit.

“Remember the bloody twat that was sitting at my table that I mentioned to you?”  Niall nods, biting his lip, and is that a grin?  “Zayn hired him.  Hired him, Niall.  As in, he made my tea today and I have to see him every day now.  Can you believe this?”

“Yeah, Zayn told me he was gonna hire Harry,” Niall replies, turning his attention back to his laptop like what he said is the most natural thing in the world, absently typing a few words before he can look up to see Louis’ gaping mouth. 

Louis has to kill Niall, too.  And he really likes Niall.  He isn’t sullen and moody like Zayn can be sometimes.  This is a travesty.

“You _knew_?” Louis asks, eyebrows nearing his hairline.  All of his friends are plotting against him.

“’Course.  Zayn ran it by me first.  Wanted to do some matchmaking, methinks.”

“Zayn doesn’t need to play matchmaker!  I don’t need any help with my love life.”

And okay, maybe Louis hasn’t gotten laid in awhile, but that’s neither here nor there.  He’s not looking for anything serious, and Harry seems like the type that’s had his future kids’ names picked out since he was six or something crazy like that.  He’d definitely want something serious.  Which Louis is not going to do because he hates Harry and his pretty curls and deep dimples and ivy colored eyes.

Niall snorts at that, slamming his laptop shut more dramatically than necessary.  “Don’t kid yourself, mate.”

“And he wants to _shoot me_ , Nialler,” Louis tells him with a groan, burying his face in his hands.  “He told me I’m pretty and he wants to shoot me.”

“Shoot ya?” Niall nearly shouts, throwing his laptop aside on the couch.  “Does Zayn know?  Oh, god, Zayn hired this tosser without even doing a background check!”  He comes over to the table and places his hand on Louis’ shoulder.  He’s pulling his phone out of his pocket as he assures, “Don’t worry.  We’ll make sure you’re safe.”

Louis glares up at him, pulling his sweatshirt sleeves over his hands.  “He’s a _photographer_.  Zayn asked him to do a print ad, and he wants me to be in it.”

Niall rolls his eyes and plops down into the chair next to Louis, setting his phone down on the table.  “You could’ve made that distinction before I almost died of a heart attack, Lewis.  There are so many beers I haven’t tried yet.  I’m way too young to die.”  Louis doesn’t say anything, so Niall takes that as an affirmation that he can continue.  “You’re gonna do it, though, right?  Zayner’ll be heartbroken if you say no.”

“Harry will be, too,” Louis mumbles into his hand, and thinking about disappointing this boy he’s only known for a couple days makes his heart clench.  He doesn’t want to be the cause of this bright ray of sunshine being sad, and that’s ludicrous because he hates him and clearly shouldn’t care about his feelings.  “So, I probably should.  Just to prove I’m a good person.”

Niall claps his hand on Louis’ back with a wide, warm smile.  “Good lad.  I’m off to meet Liam at the library for help with this damn paper!  Are you going to class today or are you gonna sit around here all day thinkin’ about how fit Harry is?”

Louis scoffs, getting up from the table and smacking Niall’s head lightly.  “That’s really none of your business, is it?”

A loud laugh escapes Niall’s lips as he picks up as laptop and a few papers from the couch.  There’s a knowing look in his eyes that Louis loathes.  No one should know him as well as Niall does.  “Right, so brooding over Harry all day.  Gotcha!  I’ll bring back dinner!” he says, and before Louis can even respond, Niall is out the door.

At least he’s not there to see Louis search Harry on facebook and grin like a lovesick idiot when he sees that his cover photo is of a Starbucks cup with ‘Harrie’ scrawled on the side. 

*

A few hours into his “Louis day,” after he’s totally caught up on the X-Factor episodes he missed, Louis’ phone buzzes with a new text from Zayn.

_you’re gonna do that photoshoot right ? harry won’t shut up about it aha :) x_

That’s.  Well.  He really can’t say no now, can he?

Another text comes before he can even start typing a reply.

_what I mean is that he won’t shut up about how u never gave him an answer so please tell me u will so I can get him to shut up !! x_

Harry is talking about him.  Harry with the beautiful curls that he hates is talking about him.  Harry with the lips that he’d very much like to kiss is talking about him.  This is a lot to handle, and it’s a very good thing he’s sitting down.

Louis didn’t have any plans to say no once Harry had asked him to be involved in the photoshoot, but now he’s most certain that he can’t.  Charming little Harry won’t shut up about him, and warmth is blooming in the pit of his stomach, and he doesn’t want it to, and he’s so, so fucked.  If anyone asks why he’s succumbed so easily, it’s because it’s unfair to the world not to give it the gift of his perfect cheekbones, but the real reason is most definitely Harry.  Louis groans into his hands before typing out a response to Zayn.

_Oi I’ve only known the lad a few days and he’s already obsessed with me ! the tommo charm huh ? ;) yes I’ll do it !! hope he gets off your back x_

Zayn’s reply is instantaneous.

_Good thing you said yes because I already told him yes before his shift finished an hour ago aha ! he wants to do test shots tomorrow so see you then bro xx_

*

Louis opts for his tightest jeans – the ones that look painted on – and a slightly see through shirt when he heads to the café the next day.  If he woke up twenty minutes early to make sure his fringe is absolutely perfect, only Niall has to know (and probably Zayn, too, because his friends are traitorous bastards that text each other about how pathetic he is).  He barely makes it two steps in before Harry is practically pouncing on him, bright eyes and wide grin.

“Hi, Lou!”

He’s so much like a puppy that Louis wants to break down right there and pet his soft-looking curls.  And the nickname.  That’s new.

“Morning, Hazza.” Two can play that game.

“Um, I’m just getting some stuff set up,” he says, motioning to his camera and tripod as well as a few different lights.  “I should be ready to start in about ten, yeah?  That alright?”

Louis nods.  “’Course, yeah.  I’ll bother Zayn until you need me for my closeup.”  He does a dramatic pose that hopefully is angled well enough to give Harry a perfect view of his ass.  Because even Louis’ mortal enemies shouldn’t be deprived of that sight.

Harry giggles and shakes his head slightly before turning back to the lights.

“Hey, Z,” Louis greets Zayn with a wave as he leans against the counter.

“Are you finally going to stop being a twat today?” Zayn asks in lieu of a greeting, putting a scone on a plate before Louis can even say anything.

“Yes, I’m great, Zayn.  I slept very well, thank you.  The weather is lovely.  Warm for this time of year.  Didn’t even have to wear me coat today.  A right scorcher.”

Zayn slaps his shoulder, and Louis jumps.  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Louis answers honestly, sticking his hands into his pockets and facing his friend with wide eyes.

“Oh my god, you really don’t have a clue, do you?”  Louis shakes his head and gestures for Zayn to continue.  “You’re doing that thing again.”

“Care to be more specific?”

Zayn lets out a little huff as he pulls out a mug for Louis’ usual tea.  “You’ve been doing it for the past, like, three years.”  Louis goes to reach for money, and Zayn halts his hand.  “Free today because you’re going to have to listen to me talk while you eat it and you’re not going to like it.”

“Your sister isn’t going to like all the money she’s losing because of you,” Louis answers pointedly, taking a sip of his tea and raising his eyebrows at his friend.

Zayn waves his hand as if to diffuse Louis’ thought and shrugs.  “She’s not here, though.  So, anyway, _Lewis_ , you’re doing that thing where you try to deny you’re attracted to someone by pretending to hate them.  You _always_ do that.”

“No, I don’t,” Louis answers automatically, face scrunching in displeasure.  Of course he doesn’t fake it.  He really does hate Harry and his stupid lovely, kissable face.

Zayn rolls his eyes and rests his chin in his hands.  “Niall told me you said you hate Harry.  Tell me why.”

“I didn’t sign up for some therapy today, Zayn, so I don’t – ”

“I can charge you double for your order since I gave it to you free the other day.”

Louis narrows his eyes because then he would most definitely have to kill Zayn.  It wouldn’t be a ‘maybe’ anymore.  “You wouldn’t,” he answers, and he licks down the scone out of spite.

Zayn pulls a disgusted face before swatting at Louis again.  “Just bloody tell me why!”

He sighs as he looks over at Harry who looks absolutely beautiful while he concentrates on getting everything set up to his liking.  He could watch him all day doing mundane tasks, which is stupid because he hates him.  “Just look at him, Zayn,” Louis says, motioning toward the boy like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.  Zayn shoots him a helpless look, and clearly he’s not following.  You have to explain _everything_ to Zayn.  “He has those stupidly long, bouncy curls, and sometimes he has his hair up, and that’s a huge distraction.  And dimples so deep that if you put water in them, you’d probably drown, and that’s unsafe, and his eyes kind of remind me of fairy lights?  How irritating.  And he’s so nice.  What the fuck is with that?”

A smirk comes over Zayn’s face, and Louis doesn’t know what that means, but he’s entirely sure he doesn’t like where this is heading.  “Right.  And why did you hate Aiden again?”

“Did you see his eyebrows?  They were so beautifully symmetrical.  Too beautifully symmetrical.”

“And that guy in your maths class that you pined over for six months but never spoke to?  Why did you hate him?”

“I wasn’t _pining,_ ” Louis corrects, “because you don’t pine for people you hate.  His problem was that he had little bits of fringe that hung out of the front of his beanies, and it was way too cute and it was probably the reason I did so terribly in that course.”

“So, you really didn’t hate any of them, then.  You just had lame ass excuses as to why you couldn’t date them and put walls up or some shit like that.”  Louis opens his mouth to speak, but Zayn quickly covers it with his hand.  “Don’t fight me on this.  You don’t hate Harry.  You’re bloody smitten with the lad, so just go for it, yeah?  He spent his entire shift yesterday talking about you, so don’t fuck it up.”

Zayn pulls his hand away, and Louis falls silent, picking at the hem of his shirt.  He isn’t _smitten_ with Harry, is he?  No, he’s most definitely annoyed by him.  Zayn is wrong.

It’s like Zayn senses that Louis is having an internal battle, and he taps his shoulder, saying lowly, “What was the last thing you thought of before you fell asleep last night?”

Louis doesn’t want to admit this because.  Shit.  He’s fucking smitten with Harry.  “Harry’s dimples.”

Zayn slaps his hand down on the counter so loudly that even Harry jumps.  “Y’alright?” he calls over, and Zayn nods, and he looks way too smug, and Louis may be in love with Harry but he truly hates his best friend.

“All good, mate!” he replies with a grin, making sure Harry goes back to his camera before he continues talking to Louis.  “I rest my case.  I’m right again.  Don’t do something totally knob-like and fuck it all up.  You have a tendency to do that.”  Louis shoots him a glare, and he only shrugs.  “I’m right.”

Louis wants to argue, but Harry is saying, “Okay, Lou!  Ready for you!  If that’s okay?”

“Yeah, sure,” Louis answers, and he tries a shaky smile, but he’s so _nervous_ now.  He feels like his legs are jelly, and any confidence he had a few minutes ago has slowly melted away thanks to the menace that is Zayn.  It’s always been so easy around Harry before, even from the first second they met, and now it’s like it’s become too complicated in a matter of seconds.  Maybe it’s easier to deal with fit boys under the guise that Louis hates them rather than thinking about how much he’d like to stick his tongue in their mouth.

“Um, okay, sit here,” Harry says, putting a guiding hand on Louis’ shoulder, and he’s burning under Harry’s touch as he plops down into one of the soft armchairs near one of the large windows.  “Great!  The lighting here makes you look very angelic, which is no easy feat.”  He shoots Louis a cheeky grin.

Louis barks out a strained sounding laugh, and he glares over at Zayn, who’s watching them with a dreamy smile.  “Hope you’re getting my good side, Harold.”

“All sides are good, I promise,” Harry mumbles, and Louis feels his face flush.  Before he can even think of anything witty to say, Harry shoves an empty mug into his hands.  “I was thinking we could take a photo where it looks like you’re drinking, so, like, you could put it up to your face, and that way, I could get a really nice shot of your eyes.  You’ve got gorgeous eyes, and that’s why I asked Zayn for the blue mug, to, um, match them.”

Louis’ mouth has suddenly stopped working and so has his brain.  He wants to say something, but the words die on his tongue.  His palms are sweating, and this is uncharacteristic for him – he’s usually full of witty comebacks and too many words.  He puts the mug down to wipe his palms on his hands, and Harry goes to take a photo when he must notice something is off.

“You okay, Lou?” he asks with furrowed brows, and he looks concerned and beautiful and yes, okay, Louis is very in love with him.

“Peachy,” is Louis’ idiotic response, and he picks up the mug again. 

“Um, your fringe is a little…” Harry does a few hand motions that Louis doesn’t quite understand.  He takes a few steps forward, hands reaching out.  “It’s kinda in your face, and like I said before, I want to make sure the focus is your eyes.  Can I?”

He nods.  “Sure,” he replies, swallowing thickly, and his brain goes blank once Harry gently touches the bits of hair that were falling into his eyes.

Harry is so close to him as he tries to make sure his eyes will be seen, and up close, Louis can’t stand it.  He doesn’t remember the last time he felt this lightheaded over someone, but god, he’s there right now, and god, Zayn was right, so very right from the first day he told Louis he was fucked, and Harry’s tongue is slightly sticking out of his mouth as he concentrates, and Louis wants to kiss him so badly, so he just fucking goes for it.

He cups Harry’s face in his hands, roughly bringing it down to be level with his own and presses his lips against his.  He can tell Harry is shocked, but it only takes a few seconds for him to relax into the kiss and bring his hands up into Louis’ hair. Louis finally gets to pet the curls he’s wanted to touch from the first time he saw him a few days ago, and yes, this is totally a reason to hate Harry because his lips are so soft and his curls are so soft, and okay, kissing him is the best decision Louis has made in at least six months.  (The previous best decision was buying the iKettle, but that pales in comparison to kissing a real, live Disney prince.)

When they pull away, Louis gets another look at Harry’s sparkling eyes up close, and he is now certain that he’s the most beautiful person he’s ever seen and most certainly ever kissed.  They seem to be stuck in their own little world for a few seconds until there’s a, “woo!” followed by applause that pulls them out of their trance.  Both of them turn in stereo to see Zayn jumping up and down at the counter.  “Quiet the fuck down,” Louis yells over to him, and Zayn bites back a smile before disappearing into the back room.

“Hi,” Harry giggles, falling down to the floor right in front of Louis.

“Hi.”

“What took you so long?” Harry asks, slightly breathless and biting a kiss swollen lip.

Louis has never been so glad to have taken down his defenses and admit he’s a little head over heels.  “I…was pretending I hate you,” he tells him lamely, and Harry throws his head back in laughter.  It sounds worse saying it aloud.  “But I never hated you.  Even though I thought I did.  So, there’s that.”

“I’m happy you came around,” Harry replies, getting up onto his knees and placing his hands on Louis’ legs.  “Because I was a little in love with you even when you were moaning about not being able to sit at your table.”

Louis laughs and leans his forehead against Harry’s, and okay, there’s no way that anyone in the world could hate this boy.  And he really, really wants to kiss him again.

So he does.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are always appreciated! You can follow me on [tumblr](http://mytinylou.tumblr.com) if you'd like and say hi :)


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